


Nark

by the_rainbow_jen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fic Exchange, Not Epilogue Compliant, Slytherins Being Slytherins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-08
Updated: 2008-07-08
Packaged: 2019-10-04 01:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rainbow_jen/pseuds/the_rainbow_jen
Summary: A guilty conscience needs no accuser.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [selinakyle47](https://archiveofourown.org/users/selinakyle47/gifts).



> Warnings: Bad language, blatant disregard of the epilogue, minor character vilification, and an execrable use of first person. Apologies.  
> Disclaimer: If I had a million dollars, I’d…still not own this, nor be as rich as JKR.  
> Author's Note: I tend to treat this like an awards acceptance speech, so…  
> First off, I want to thank the world’s best beta, floorcoaster, for tolerating my plot changes, bad grammar, and last minute inspirations. You are responsible for this being as good as it is, though I’m responsible if folks think it’s rubbish. Also to R, for last-minute (and I do mean last minute) nitpicking on details I would have forgotten.
> 
> selinakyle47, you asked for angsty, post-DH fic that deals with the ramifications of Pansy's "outing" of Harry before the Battle of Hogwarts. Well, I took some liberties with that, but….here it is.
> 
> This was posted to Livejournal in 2008, and I am re-posting to Ao3 for archival purposes. No content has been updated.

"Pansy!" Mother's sharp voice broke me free from the slightly hypnotic process of washing dishes. "We're ready for dessert. Don't dawdle."

I bit my tongue but moved to comply. The tray of tarts and pudding floated ahead of me as I entered the dining room. I set the tray on the sidebar, taking individual dishes to each place setting, keeping my head down. As I exited the room, I heard one querulous voice, likely my aunt Regina, ask, "What's that on her face, Agatha?" I didn't flinch when my mother said dismissively, "Just something that happened Before." You could always hear that emphasis in her voice.

I returned to scrubbing dishes, oddly grateful for the distraction. Thanks to Hermione Granger's efforts, House Elf 'enslavement' was illegal, so as soon as the opportunity to leave came, our one elf Pip, who'd been roundly abused by mother's demanding social schedule, was gone. Since I had brought so much disgrace on the family, it was decided that I'd take over some of his responsibilities. More like all his responsibilities. Mother might be facing social ruin thanks to my verbal outburst, but it wasn't evident in how she entertained, or spent money. Father had a slightly harassed look to him anymore, and wouldn't look at me. Can't blame him. With such a reminder so openly displayed … I turned from that train of thought to finish the dishes, determined to be done and gone by the time mother called for something else.

I managed to escape to the back yard, where I climbed into the tree house I'd had since I was six, and my brother Patrick had gone off to Hogwarts, leaving me to my own devices. It was really too small for me anymore, but I liked the enclosed space. No one could sneak up on me here. I let my feet dangle off the edge, looking out to where the gardeners were putting to rights the hedge. It had been one of the nastier pranks, our hedges growing into the shape of the Dark Mark. Mother had a fit of the hysterics, and Father locked himself into his library, leaving me to grab one of the ancient swords off the wall of the dining room and hack at it myself. It had been cathartic, being able to get back just a little at whoever kept harassing us.

Harassing me, more like. It had been fourteen months since the battle that had changed everything and my life as I knew it was over. Instead of preparing for a wedding to Draco Malfoy, I was alone; waiting for him to be released from the rehabilitation program he was in at Azkaban. Instead of window-shopping at Diagon Alley, I had to order through the owl post anonymously, as nearly all the businesses in Diagon Alley refused my patronage, and when I went in to pick up the order, I had to wait through several customers before I got served. Instead of answering correspondence from other pureblooded witches, I was burning all my mail, watching it explode with jinxed letters and howlers full of rage, in a voice I almost recognized but couldn’t quite place.

Seeing Father arrive home, I quickly climbed down. He got letters from Draco  
through his business, which was the only way I could communicate with him. He handed me the envelope, thinner this time, and I ripped it open without a by-your-leave. Its contents stopped me in my tracks.

 

_Pansy,_

_What has been going on? Blaise said you never go out anymore; that you've all but disappeared. He also said someone's been harassing you. Pansy, talk to me. Not this nonsense about everything being okay. I know it isn't._

_Listen, I know you're still hurt and upset about my last letter, but it’s for the best. I can't keep you hanging forever, and really, if things are this bad when we're apart, I can only guess how bad they'll be when we are together. Please, it’s for the best._

_~Draco_

 

The page blurred as I stared at it. How exactly was I supposed to take a Dear Jane letter? It wasn't like I had expected it. I thought it somewhat romantic, waiting for him. It gave purpose to the harassment, the horrible treatment that I'd been going through. If I could get through that and he could get through Azkaban, we could be together. Only now we couldn’t, because he was trying to protect me. Unfortunately, no one could protect me from myself. I blinked back tears as I remembered with ugly clarity the day it came home to me how bad things were going to get.

***

"Watch where you're going!" a snide female voice snapped at me as I stood looking at a display in the window of Madame Malkin's. I didn't dare go in - the last time I had, the venerable designer had taken one look at me and said that they didn't carry anything in my size, and why didn't I look elsewhere? I'm not stupid, despite what people think of Slytherin, since we reputedly sided with Voldemort, and I’m far from the cow I know I’ve been called. I had made a comment about all her robes being good for nothing more than dressing up egotistical, self-serving politicians, and we all knew where they got their money, then left. The barb had stung, as I had known it would. It was all well and good for her to decry my traitor status, but selling to a politician who took bribes from Malfoys and Notts, like Fudge and Thicknesse, was much the same - all money is dirty like that. Even though Shacklebolt hadn't done anything in his twelve months in office, I had no doubt he was as bad as the rest of them.

The owner of the voice shoved me forward, and my cheekbone glanced off the glass, smarting. I heard laughter moving away from me, but I didn’t bother looking to see who it was. My reflection revealed a slight swelling, and I touched it gingerly before moving away from the window. Nothing to be done.

"Are you all right?" I heard behind me, and as I glanced over my left shoulder, I saw Granger, Potter, and the two Weasleys rounding out their quartet. My lips curled in a sneer, but all I could say was, "What's it to you?"

The bushy-haired bint stepped forward, concern evident. "I saw what those boys did just now. Why didn't you..." She broke off as she realized who she was talking to. She shut her mouth, glancing at He-Weasel, who was looking at me with narrowed eyes. I smiled unpleasantly, and after seeing the looks on all their faces, turned to leave. Wasn't going to provoke them, not today. I'd had all I could stand with the books I bought from Flourish and Blotts being knocked from my hands and deliberately stepped on. I was trying to study up so I could qualify for Potions Mastery, and finally get away from my parents’ home.

"What were you looking at in the window?" This time the She-Weasel spoke, and as I met her gaze, she didn't flinch. "Before, you were looking at something. What was it?"

I could see a measure of pity in her face; everyone knew that Parkinson was synonymous with fair game, and I'd taken my fair share of shoves, trips, spills and flat out having people spit in my face. I had managed to keep calm, in spite of it all, but if she kept looking at me like I was a stray dog she would offer food to, I'd scratch the freckles off her face. I would not tolerate pity from a Weasley.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I was just checking my hair," I said loftily, hearing the He-Weasel snicker. I glared at him as much as I dared. "I was thinking I ought to dye it red, so I might be mistaken for part of such a heroic family." Heaven knew the entire family had a great reputation these days.

He-Weasel flushed, and now Potter felt the need to intervene on his behalf. "Stop it." He stepped forward, meeting my eyes. There was no pity there, only challenge as I had just insulted his friend. This I could handle.

"Or what?" I shot back, throwing caution to the wind. "Or you'll get your little admirers to rough me up a bit? I'm sure there's someone around who wouldn't mind dropping me a Howler, or pushing me into a puddle, or even better, jinxing me from across the room." That last had cut through my robes, and Mother hadn't been pleased to have to fix them for me.

He blanched, and I could almost believe he didn't know what happened during my shopping trips. Almost. But the look of guilt in his eyes was a clear indicator that he knew something, and I had had enough of it for one day.

"This cow bothering you?" I heard from behind me, as my arms were roughly grabbed. Damn and blast. I knew I should have just left. "Don't worry; we'll take care of it. Reckon she just forgot her place. We'll … remind her." I opened my mouth to protest, only to have been silenced by one of the boys as they hauled me away from the quartet. I saw Harry step forward, She-Weasel hanging on his arm, and before we disappeared, he turned back to her, irritation on his face. With a sickening lurch, I felt the tug of Side-Along Apparition, and knew my tongue, treacherous thing it was, had gotten me in more trouble. At least this time I had gotten some of my own back. What is it the muggles say? Pride goeth before a fall? Well, I was falling, only this time, I'd hit rock bottom.

***

"Pansy, I have a list of things I need you to get from Madame Primpernelle's." My mother's nasal voice made me look up from where I was dusting. She held out the small scroll, and I took it, reading over her writing quickly.

"Mother, I can't buy that sort of thing there," I said, hating the tinge of desperation that snuck into my voice. "Some of these are specialty potions, and they won't sell them to me."

"Well, now whose fault is that?" she said sharply, looking me in the eyes. It shocked me to see such disgust from my own mother. "It’s no better than you deserve. You had to be the one to speak up, didn’t you?” I opened my mouth, then shut it. I'd only be proving her right, even though she really didn't know the half of it.

I've never been able to keep my mouth shut. When I was five, I saw my brother take out my father's broom and bend over half the twigs out of place. Patrick claimed he had no idea how it happened, but I piped up about what I saw, which was him showing off for his friends. Sure, they'd just told me to get lost, that they couldn't play with a little girl, but regardless, I told the truth then.

That's what surprises people. That I tell the truth. Sometimes it’s hard to stomach, like when I told Hermione Granger she might have used a whole bottle of Sleekezy to look even halfway decent, but no amount of magic could make the boys look at her. And when I stood up and correctly identified Harry Potter and was willing to do as the Dark Lord asked, well, it was what any person who valued his or her life would do. Did I think about it before I spoke? No, I just acted in the interests of self-preservation. Just like when I pretended not to know what Draco was up to sixth year. Sure, he thought he was being all clever and secretive, but as his expected bride, I'd made a study of him since I was nine. I had known exactly what he was up to.

Mother was watching me, knowing I couldn’t refuse. After all, pureblooded daughters were supposed to be submissive to their parents for as long as they lived with them. Granted, no self-respecting pureblooded female lived at home past her N.E.W.T.s unless engaged, and here I was, nearly twenty. I believe the Muggles call it spinsterdom. I sighed and held my hand out for the small pouch of coins I was to use. It was unlikely I'd not feel someone's wrath, whether it be Mother's or some passerby on the streets of Diagon, so best get it over with as fast as possible.

Of course, entering Madame Primpernelle’s would be cause for snickering if anyone had seen me, but fortunately, she had a Floo entrance, knowing how sensitive some customers were to shopping there. Not everyone would own up to using beauty potions, especially not purebloods. Since Mother had owled ahead what the order would be, I made the purchases faster than normal, only to freeze when I heard a familiar voice. Of course she’d shop here. I caught sight Marietta out of the corner of my eye and inwardly groaned. She was right next to the Floo entrance. Nodding quickly to the clerk, I ducked outside. It would be far preferable to facing that hag.

“Where you going so fast, Parkinson?” I was brought up short by Eddie Carmichael and Jimmy Chambers. The usual suspects, likely waiting for Marietta inside. They blocked my path to the Leaky, and when I tried to move around them, they continued blocking me, forcing me back into the alley between Madam Primpernelle’s and Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor. I tried to push past them, but they threw me back against the wall, and my vision went blurry for a moment when my head hit. Scared now, I reached inside my robes for a bottle, figuring that if I couldn’t get away from them, I could at least do some damage in return. Last time I hadn't gotten away unscathed, so I could only imagine what I was in for this time. Unfortunately, I have a good imagination, and at this rate of escalation, it would be no time at all before I was seriously maimed.

“Oi!” I heard from behind them. “What are you doing?” Harry Potter entered the mouth of the alley, suspicion on his face. Great, just what I needed. Boy Wonder was here to save me. I hadn't seen him since that day two months ago, but Father had mentioned he'd seen him about, inquiring after me.

“Nothing. Just taking care of some business,” Eddie answered, not looking at Harry. The malice in his eyes was unmistakable to me, but then, Slytherins have a sixth sense for ill intent in others. I doubt our beloved Gryffindor hero could say the same. I gripped a bottle in my robe pocket, ready to chuck it at his face if necessary to get free.

“Looks to me like your business is finished here,” Harry said in a voice colder than I had ever heard before. The two boys tensed, and to my surprise they backed off. I managed to bite my tongue and not say anything as Eddie and Jimmy shuffled off, but not before muttering vague threats at me. I scrambled to my feet, stumbling a bit. I must have hit my head harder than I thought. I tried to just brush past Potter, but he reached out, grasping my arm. I met his gaze, concerned and guileless, and I almost thanked him. Almost.

“What did they do to you?” he demanded, then his eyes widened, taking in the scars on my face, and the shape they were in, that no amount of healing creams could fix. He looked frozen, staring at my face, and my self-control vanished.

“This time? Nothing. Though you better tell them to be more discreet if you want them to succeed next time, so you don't have to play hero and rescue me.” The sarcasm just wouldn’t stop rolling off my tongue. “They’re running out of things to do to me, after all. And why bother making an example if no one can see it?” To my horror, I felt tears prickling at my eyes, so I jerked my arm free from him. “So if you’re finished, I have to be going.”

“We’re not.” I stopped, and turned to stare incredulously at him. He took a deep breath, and squared his jaw. “Not finished, I mean.”

“I know what you meant,” I snapped, turning to face him, arms crossed over my chest. “What, you want a go at me?” He blanched a bit. “Because I didn’t really leave time in my schedule for being worked over by the Boy Wonder of the Wizarding World. So you’ll have to wait ‘til next time. I'm sure to be back next week, so just keep a lookout for someone in an alleyway with those two dolts.”

“That’s not what I meant!” he said sharply, his face going pink. I didn’t have a chance to wonder why before he continued, “I’m taking you to St. Mungo’s. We’re getting this reversed.”

I stared at him for a long moment, then sneered, “Let me guess, you think you’re doing me a favor, don’t you, Potter?” With a slightly cautious and confused look, Harry nodded, opening his mouth to speak before I overrode him. “Well guess what. I don’t need you doing me any favors. Frankly, I’d rather join Granger’s Elf Liberation Front than be indebted to you. So spare me your Gryffindor pity. I don’t need it.”

“You couldn’t go inside.” His quiet words drew me up sharp as I saw realization bloom on his face. “That day at Madame Malkin’s, you couldn’t go inside because they refused your business.” The pity I'd expected at those words never materialized, and I was off-balance, not knowing how to react. His hand on my arm was gentle and firm, anchoring me, but not so tight that I'd have a mark.

“So, what of it?” I said flippantly, not liking where this was going. I jerked free then and started backing away from him, towards the mouth of the alley.

“Parkinson. Pansy.” I stopped at the sound of him saying my name. He took a deep breath. “I didn’t ask anyone to do this to you. Please believe me when I say I don't hold it against you, what happened.” He looked sincere enough, and while I knew some Gryffindors who could lie with impunity, especially to themselves, I also knew Potter was as transparent as crystal. For what he knew, he didn't hate me. Just goes to show he didn't really know me at all. It didn’t change the fact that I didn’t want his ‘help.'

“Sorry, Potter, you’ll just have to dispense your goodwill on someone else. I don’t want it.” I turned my back to him, marching out the alleyway and making my way as fast as possible to the Leaky. At home, Mother crabbed at me about taking so long, saying she would be late for her engagement that evening, and why didn’t I use the scarf Father had so kindly bought me for public occasions?

“Because I won’t hide what someone else did to me,” I finally snapped, shocking Mother into silence as I left the room. Potter's words rang in my ears. I don't hold it against you. He might not, but someone else did, someone with good reason.

***

It didn’t take Potter long to track down where I lived. In hindsight, I should have known he’d come for a visit. He’d been the only other person who figured out Draco was up to something our sixth year, and I had been reluctantly impressed when I read about the lengths to which Potter had gone to defeat the Dark Lord. If I had known that sooner … Well, I still would have spoken up. It’s my very nature to do so. But I might not have come back after the evacuation.

I was outside, hanging up the wash. I’d normally have to clean it, but Mother had taken some measure of pity and set the spells in motion. He’s a quiet bugger when he wants to be, I’ll give him that. He came up behind me and said, “Pansy.”

I shrieked, dropping my clothespins and an armful of sheets. Glaring at him, I stooped to gather the sheets, only to find he’d summoned the clothespins to himself, and he held them out to me. Snatching them from his hands, I returned to what I was doing.

“Pansy,” he said again. “I need you to tell me how and why this happened.” He looked uncomfortable; standing there in denims and a t-shirt, looking so horribly Muggle I wondered how he got past the wards. But then I remembered something about his family having a lineage as old as the Malfoys, and I didn’t say anything, just concentrated on finishing so I could escape him.

“Why aren’t you using magic?” he asked, watching me struggle to get the sheet affixed while holding onto the rest of the pins.

I sighed in exasperation. “Because I don’t have a wand, genius.” I gave him a look, one that had always made Crabbe and Goyle squirm a bit and flee the room when I wanted time alone with Draco. Ah, those were the days.

“Why not?” he persisted. Apparently he’d become immune to such looks. Well then, points for Granger and Weasley. He caught one pin as it slipped from my fingers, his Seeker’s skills as sharp as ever, and fastened it to the corner nearest him. He then took out his wand and silently did the incantation to make the rest of the wash start hanging itself, leaving me free to just pin them all.

“Merlin, are you really this thick?” I muttered, somewhat to myself, before saying to him, “It got broken during the final battle, and frankly, with Ollivander retired, I can’t get a replacement." I caught the look on his face and gave him my best sneer. "What, you think that just because Voldemort's been dead and gone over a year that people have forgotten how to hate? Got news for you, Potter. Hate's just as universal a language as love. I can assure you, there are far more people fluent in it than you want to think."

He didn't really have an answer for that, and just stood there, watching me finish the wash. I didn't thank him, because I hadn't asked for his help to begin with, he just forced it on me. He wasn't much better than the idiots who idolize him. I used the last pin and grabbed the hamper, turning to go inside, Potter dogging my steps all the while. I didn't have time to mess with him; Mother had invited Mrs. Bulstrode for afternoon tea. He kept following me into the kitchen, and I finally snapped. "Honestly, what? What is it you want? Please, if it will make you go away, tell me."

He stood there, uncertainty on his face, before squaring his shoulders. Ah, yes, this was the hero everyone knew and I despised. "How did you get that?" He gestured towards my right cheek. "I've only ever seen a spell like that once before, and I don't think it's common knowledge how to cast it."

"Well, maybe that's why you weren't in Ravenclaw, because your ability to think is so stunningly shortsighted it's a wonder you don't trip over your own two feet," I snapped, reaching up on reflex to touch my face, feeling the raised scars from the pimples that formed the shape of the Dark Mark, as clear as day. "Now, I will explain this once, and I'll use small words so you don't get lost. The person you saw this cast on before was a Ravenclaw."

He nodded, still with me. "Ravenclaws like learning things, and I'll bet if you stretch your little mind around it, you'd see how they might like to learn how to undo things done to them, and the process of doing so means they'd learn the spell themselves."

"So you mean-"

"Yes. I mean. It's a wonder you passed your N.E.W.T.s with that sort of thinking." Turning back to the stove, I started the water to boiling, pulling out a small container of biscuits and wafers her mother preferred for company, and arranging them on their service tray, best china and linens, and a small container of cream. I could feel his eyes on me, and seeing him lift his wand arm out of the corner of my eye, I jerked away from him, clattering the tray on the counter.

"Stay away from me!" My voice was high-pitched, fear creeping in where before there had only been resignation. I hadn't let anything else get to me, not since the Final Battle, but the idea of being cut down in my own home … Frankly, I didn't know if anyone would care. Mother would, but that was because she'd be out the labor. Draco would, if only because we'd been together for so long. I needed this sanctuary from the scorn of the world, this one place where what I'd done couldn't hurt me. I didn't want Potter to take it away from me, and I backed away, hitting a wall. He merely advanced, a look of concentration on his face, and before I could raise my arms in flimsy shielding, I felt something tingling on my right cheek. It flared briefly in pain so staggering that my knees buckled, and I sat down, hard, on the floor. He crouched next to me, and I was taken aback by his hand lifting my chin, examining his handiwork.

The feel of his hand on my face, and his intent gaze stirred something in me, something I didn't care to think about. It had been so long since I'd felt that.... I pushed the feeling down, lifting my own hand and touching my now smooth skin. Swallowing, I called on every ounce of pride I had left not to start crying. Yes, I was vain; some might even say inappropriately so, but I'd always liked how I looked, thinking there was a certain regality to having a roundish upturned nose. It certainly had made me memorable, which I had taken for a good thing. These days, I just wanted to fade into obscurity, and be deaf to the whispers and titters.

He dropped his hand, and I could see a flush creeping up his neck. Unsteadily, I said, “How…? Never mind, of course you’d know how to fix it with Granger around.” I sighed. "They'll just do it again." I wasn't under any sort of delusion that just because Harry Potter felt guilty about how I had been treated that it would stop. There was no reason for them to stop.

"No they won’t." I heard the note of certainty in his voice, the one that made three-quarters of the school stand up for him against my outburst, and the moment of … whatever, between us, was lost. I put the steel back in my voice.

"Right. Keep telling yourself that. While you're at it, why not Vanish your scar? Or do you like the notoriety?" Again, my mouth runs away with me sometimes. I watched as he stood abruptly, turning to go. I scrambled to my own feet, hating that I felt a bit bad for saying such a thing.

"Potter!" I said, stopping him in the doorway. "Why?" He knew what I meant. Given that I'd have turned him over in a heartbeat to Lord Voldemort, given all that had happened that night, why would he want to help me?

He turned, and gave a half-hearted smile. "Because it's the right thing to do. No one should be suffering anymore for a simple mistake. Besides, I did just what you would have done, and I don't see anyone marking me for it." Right, he had walked into the viper's den, hadn't he? Straight up to Voldemort and gotten killed, only not really, because he was alive and talking to me. I flushed, feeling a bit stupid, and he continued, “Despite what’s happened in the past, Pansy, hate is not my universal language, and I don’t want it to be yours." He left then, and I was rooted to the spot for a long moment, until the teakettle sounded and I had to hurry the tea into mother, who never even noticed my face was smooth for the first time in a year.

He was wrong about one thing. There was nothing simple about my mistake, and I dreaded the day he realized it went beyond petty dislike for speaking up against him in front of hundreds.

***

I hated asking favors. No big surprise there—most Slytherins would rather gnaw off their arm than be indebted. But, feeling a bit fatalistic (I already owed Potter once huge favor, unasked as it was, I might as well double the score. At least I knew he wouldn't abuse it. Much), I owled Potter the next day.

 

_Potter,_

_Don't suppose you could clear me to visit Draco? His hair gets frightfully tangled without some of my own personal blend of conditioner._

_~P. Parkinson_

I hoped Draco would never hear of my whopper of a lie, because we both knew Malfoys had hair that obeyed every whim of their owner. Besides, I was hoping the idea would play to Potter's own sense of smug superiority, wherever it was. I needed to see Draco, if only to resign myself to life without him. I'd rather be able to convince him to change his mind, but Malfoys are even more inflexible than Parkinsons. Two days later, I got a response.

 

_Pansy,_

_Tomorrow at ten meet me at the Ministry's entrance._

_~H. Potter_

So there I waited, a few minutes past ten, and Potter was nowhere to be found. I was actually using the scarf Father had bought, in the hopes that my 'admirers' would think they had broken me, instead of giving away that I now had a blemish-free face, and so far, so good. Of course, no sooner than I had thought that highly optimistic and uncharacteristic thought than several people came by where I was waiting, talking loudly amongst themselves, before one looked up. I tried to look inconspicuous, but unfortunately, the scarf didn't conceal my nose. Distinctive, remember?

"Well, look, if it isn't everyone's favorite tattletale," I heard Marietta Edgecombe say loudly. Her face looked as it always had, scarred and sneering. Apparently what she bought at Madam Primpernelle's wasn't giving her the results she wanted.

I looked up at the clock, hoping against all odds that Harry would show up before it got ugly. Well, uglier than it was going to.

"What's this? A scarf? Got something on your face, Parkinson?" I heard the snickers at her lame wit. Really, how had she been sorted Ravenclaw? They were supposed to be smarter than that. It made me wonder how she'd learnt the spell to use on me. "Go on, give us a look."

I resolutely didn't look at her, and she came over, yanking the scarf from my face. I heard an indrawn breath from behind her, and consigned myself to yet another unpleasant encounter, but this time, I was going to give as good as I'd gotten. I smiled at her, letting her see the malice in my eyes, before tugging the scarf the rest of the way off. If they wanted a fight, I'd give them a good one. I never expected it to last, and at least this way I might be able to illustrate to Potter what was going on.

"What's wrong, Marietta? Were you admiring my scarf then? I don't blame you. Real silk is hard to come by these days, especially on a Ministry salary. I don't suppose you want to try mine out? No? Well, that's awfully brave of you, bearing your scars before everyone. Or is Madam Primpernelle giving up on you?" All of which was said with the sickeningly sweet venom I'd learned while listening to Madam Umbridge. Marietta was caught off guard and stepped back a moment, until Eddie and Jimmy stepped up to flank her. Ah, yes, if you can't win by wit, win by force. I looked both boys in the eye. "What's wrong, boys? You disagree? Think Maybe Marietta should try one in a different color?"

Jimmy scowled, and Eddie moved forward, grabbing my arms. I dropped the scarf then, looking around to see if anyone would intervene. A few looked concerned, but as soon as they recognized me, their faces hardened and they turned away. Figures.

"Maybe we've been going about it all wrong, boys," Marietta spoke, a vicious light gleaming in her eyes. "Maybe instead of something so visible we ought to go … deeper."

I felt a cold chill run up my spine. I tried to bluff my way free, hoping to at least get inside the Ministry to where a guard might possibly help me. "Oh, please. You don't have the guts for anything original. You merely copy what others have done before you." I scoffed; wincing a bit as Eddie jerked my arms behind my back, high up, making me lean a bit forward. "What's wrong, the truth sting? Because your heroics make you look good only to you. You’re no better than me, you know."

"I did what I had to.” Marietta went red, which did interesting things to her scars, and I braced myself for what she might do in retaliation. No one liked being reminded of their past mistakes. “Besides, I might look bad to others, but I can live with it so long as you look worse," she said smugly.

I briefly wondered if she didn't perhaps belong in Gryffindor with that kind of logic, before Eddie yanked my arms higher, bending me almost in half as Marietta casually pressed her wand against my face. "Now, what do you think it should be this time, boys? Maybe a message." Her wand moved towards my chest. "To surprise anyone who cares to shag the slag."

Which I found personally offensive. I'd never slept with anyone, not even Draco. Call me old-fashioned, but I believed in waiting til I was married. Or at least certain of the outcome. With Draco, the timing was never right, and now, if he had his way, likely never would be right.

"How about you lower your wand and step back?" I jerked my head up, wincing as my arms ached, to see Harry standing a few feet away, arms casually folded across his chest, watching us with a rather bored look on his face. It seemed to throw Marietta and her goons a bit off.

"But … she wanted to turn you in, to He-Who- Voldemort!" she blurted, looking at Harry in confusion. Eddie's grip loosened, but not enough for me to break free, unfortunately.

"But she didn't. Besides, she only did what she had to. Like some other people I could name…" He trailed off meaningfully, watching Marietta's face go white, then red again. She muttered sullenly to Eddie to let me go, and I yanked my arms away, making a point to rub where he'd gripped. He added, “This will be the last time I catch you three at it, or you’ll have more trouble on your plate than just me.”

They looked at him, then at each other. Apparently threats from Boy Wonder weren’t what they expected. It confirmed my long-held suspicions about who might have been the driving force behind my being so cast out by the entire wizarding world. Lowering their wands, they backed off, and as they slunk off, I whirled on Potter. For whatever reason he was helping me, and I wasn’t going to stop him.

"What took you so long?" I hissed, bending over to reach for my scarf, but he beat me to it. Trying to grab it from his hands, I continued while tugging ineffectually on the bit of silk. "I suppose you wanted proof I wasn't doing this to myself, that maybe I'd been lying about it all."

"Actually, I wanted to catch them in the act, so I knew who they were specifically, and so they would know where I stand on their little games," he admitted, finally letting go of the scarf, which I stuffed in my pocket, not hiding behind it anymore.

I didn't expect such a thoughtful answer, and it took several moments before I finally said, "Merlin, Potter, you sounded positively Slytherin for a moment there." This seemed to amuse him, and he smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners like he had some sort of secret. He was almost handsome when he did that. It certainly erased some of the shadows from underneath his eyes.

Having never been the object of such an open and warm look from anyone, much less a Gryffindor, I was startled, almost not hearing when he said, "So, let's get you cleared through for a visit, shall we?"

***

It had been six months since I'd seen Draco. The new wing at Azkaban, intended for minor criminals or those worthy of rehabilitation, wasn't as scary as the rest of the place seemed. Draco, though … I never thought so much could change about a person in six months, but apparently I was wrong. It was more than just his hair, shorter now and showing some definite thinness at his temples. All the pride and the confidence that had made him so…Draco… was gone. In its place was a neediness to which I didn't know how to respond. I’d loved him for his confidence, and his ability to convince me that he was right, that things were exactly as we’d believe them. That was gone, and I felt a certain betrayal at seeing how broken he’d become. How tragic it is, that the man I've loved since I was seven, who had eaten all the cream puffs at my birthday party, was finally looking at me as though he cared about me, and I just wanted to shake him for it. Never mind the fact that he'd already broken things off between us. I felt my heart skip a beat as I sat down across from him. Harry had gotten us a private conference room to talk, even though the guards had made some suggestive remarks about conjugal rights which I ignored, grateful that I could no longer blush about such things.

"Pansy!" Draco jumped to his feet as soon as the door closed and sealed, giving us privacy. I was startled, but stood as well, feeling strangely numb as he swept me into his arms. I hadn't been touched with any emotion like this for so long, except the other day… I quickly quashed my reaction to Potter's pitying wandwork and hugged Draco back. He felt thinner than before, but still strong, arms winding around me like Devil's Snare. I could feel his heart beating against my chest, and I closed my eyes, taking in the moment. It was likely the last time I'd ever feel his arms around me. After a long moment, he pulled back, looking into my eyes, trying to ferret out what I'd not told him. I don't know what he saw, but it made him lean in and kiss my forehead, sighing. Then Potter ruined the moment with a knock at the door.

Opening it to the sight of us wrapped around each other, Potter flushed, then said hurriedly, "Pansy, here's the forms we need to have on file for the visit." He moved to drop them on table as Draco was frozen in shock, likely from hearing his nemesis use my first name so casually, and was gone again before Draco could move. The sound of the door clicking shut, however, set him free from his shock, and he let go, backing away.

"What have you done?" The disgust in his voice was evident, and I couldn't stop from flinching, though if the past two years had taught me anything, it was to stand my ground in times of attack. "Since when are you and Potter on a first name basis? Is he why you're here? What did you promise him in exchange for this? Did he ask you to get me to make some sort of confession or something?"

Some things never changed. I scowled, reaching out to catch Draco's hand, but he backed away, putting the table between us and I sat down again, trying to find a way to explain things. Not that there was anything to explain, and what right did he had to worry, since he'd dumped me. I said as much, and he flushed, silently acknowledging the hypocrisy inherent in his accusations. "I just asked him to get me in and for whatever reason, he did."

He gave me a skeptical look. "That's the truth, Draco. Who knows what's going on in that little Gryffindor head of his? His reasons are his own, as are mine. Whatever you're imagining is just in your head."

"So I imagined his reaction to my holding you, did I?" he said sarcastically, lifting a hand to run it over his hair in agitation. "Pansy, what's been happening to you? Last time I saw you, you were … different." I reached up, rubbing at my cheek absently. I was different, and I didn't know if it was a good thing or not.

Though he didn’t say it, I knew what he meant. I wasn't brittle then, on the verge of snapping. In the past few weeks, thanks to all the run-ins and emotional highs and lows, I was nearing my limit. I was strong, we both knew that, but I didn't bend very well to anyone. Staring at my hands, I sighed. Draco deserved more of an answer than that.

"Draco, do you remember what happened before Hogwarts started evacuating?" I asked quietly. He nodded wordlessly. There was much we didn't talk about from that time; the events of the last battle being one of them. We knew, roughly, what had happened to each other, but it remained an unspoken agreement that we'd leave it be.

Now, though, I had to make my confession to the only person I trusted not to hate me for it. Draco listened, face slowly draining of color and by the time I finished, he was grey, slumped forward in his seat. The room was silent, disturbed only by my occasional sniffle as I rooted in my pocket for a hankie. When I was able to get myself under control, Draco said, "Pansy, come here." I moved to his side of the table, and he pulled me into his lap, something he hadn't done since fourth year after the Yule Ball when we'd been tipsy on spiked punch and had spent the rest of the evening in the common room groping each other in silent declaration of our relationship. I rested my head against his shoulder for several long moments before he spoke.

"I don't want you to come and see me anymore." I jerked upright, ready to fly off his lap, but he held me still, and continued doggedly, "It’s too dangerous. Someone might hear us talk and… You can't keep waiting for me. I mean it. I have at least another year, maybe two, before I get probation, and I don't know what will happen afterwards. I don't want you putting your life on hold for me."

"Draco. I can’t just—" I began protesting, and he reached up, laying a finger on my lips, smiling sadly at me. I fell silent, just looking at him, our years of close familiarity telling me he'd made up his mind, and his future, for better or worse, wouldn't include me. I struggled to find words to reason with him, but I couldn't. I felt something shift, and the truth that I’d fought for the past few weeks since he’d granted me my freedom from him came home. I’d always love him as my first love, but he wouldn’t be my one and only. The Draco I had fallen in love with was a young, somewhat selfish boy, as I had been a selfish girl. Now, though, Draco had learnt some semblance of nobility here in prison, and it was breaking my heart. I had to grow up and accept it for his sake, as well as mine.

I finally gave him a smile one of resignation and acceptance, and he moved his hand from my mouth to hold mine in my lap. Draco smiled back, his beautiful grey eyes less haunted than I'd seen them in several years, and I knew it had been the right thing, us going our separate ways. I stood, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead, and Potter's impeccable timing interrupted us yet again.

"Sorry," he said, looking at his feet, shuffling a little. "Miss Parkinson's time is up."

Draco gave me one last hug before I exited the room, head held high. I saw Potter step into the room, closing the door behind him. I could only imagine what he was saying to Draco, but before long he came back out, his face carefully blank. He moved to my side as the guard entered and escorted Draco out. I looked back at Draco, but he wasn't looking at me. I could feel my eyes burn and I turned away, walking briskly down the hallway. I needed to get away from all this. Closure was a necessary pain, and one I didn’t need to advertise to Potter.

Potter stuck with me, though. I wouldn't look at him, not wanting to see the pity in his eyes. When we stopped by the exit, waiting to be cleared out, he pressed the stack of papers into my hands, a Muggle pen on top. "You need to sign these before you can leave," he said quietly. I scrawled my name on each quickly, not reading them, and thrust them back at him, the need to escape building to frantic levels.

Potter's silence was unnerving me, and I finally snapped at him, “Are we done here? Because I don’t know what else you want from me, and frankly, I have other things to do." He didn't bother answering, so I turned to go.

"We're not done." His voice cut through my jumbled thoughts and I finally looked at him. He met my eyes unflinchingly, calm and composed. He continued, "Not until I know you can defend yourself."

We were finally out of the Ministry by then, and I stopped in the middle of Diagon Alley, fighting the urge to scream. Breathing hard, I snarled, "Haven’t you noticed? The public needs its whipping girl, and they don’t want her armed. Don’t worry your heroic little head about me. Its bad enough I owe you for this visit. Which I’m sure you’ll find something appropriately pathetic for me to do in exchange, so unless you’ve something in mind right this moment, then fuck off."

He caught my arm as I turned away from him, and reflexively, I spun back, intent on hitting him, but he caught me up against him, and I felt the squeeze of Apparition as we left Diagon and reappeared inside a dark, dingy house. I pushed back from him, bouncing off a portrait behind me, which began screaming obscenities as the curtain that covered it was blasted open. Harry struggled to cover it, but as he did so, I saw a door and ducked out of the house. I had no intention of becoming his new pet project, and in my highly emotional state, it was unlikely either of us would emerge unscathed. I came out to a London suburb, full of Muggles and traffic and noise. Ignoring the looks I got for my robes, I moved down the sidewalk and began walking away. I didn't know where the bloody hell I was, but anything would be better than this.

When I felt a hand grab my arm, I swung my unencumbered fist at his head, narrowly missing him and spinning me into his grasp. I struggled, gasping for breath as his arms tightened. "Pansy," he panted, struggling to keep me still. Hours of house-elf labor had made me stronger than I looked, though not strong enough for an outnumbered fight like the one I’d almost gotten in before. Potter was about my height though, and he'd filled out since his year spent on the run. Our faces were close together, and I acted instinctively. I leaned forward and kissed him.

Truly, I don't know what I was thinking would happen. Maybe that he'd release me and back away, horrified at having an enemy kiss him, though I imagine our status as enemies was at best nebulous. Or it could be that I would capture his attention so well that I could jerk myself free. It could be that I wanted something of my own back. Or even that I was craving a man’s touch, having gone without for so long, and having been denied anything when I visited Draco, I was feeling needy. Whatever my reasoning, which I don’t care to dwell on, it didn’t quite go as planned.

Instead of releasing me, he gave an involuntary moan that sent a thrill down my spine and stilled my struggles. I didn't protest when Potter parted his lips and took over the kiss. The arms that had been pinning me into submission were now coaxing me to respond. I felt a hand slide up my neck and cup my face, tilting my head to the side ever so slightly, and then …

A noise caught my attention, and I pulled back a bit, blinking at the look on Potter's face. If I didn't know better, I would think he was turned on by the kiss. He licked his lips, and I made a noise, utterly distracted by the movement, until he leaned back in, going for another kiss and I came back to myself fully. Shoving hard, I managed to knock him on his arse.

"You, you …" I gesticulated somewhat wildly, the control I'd had on myself since leaving Draco thoroughly disintegrated. "What in the bloody hell do you think you're doing? First you kidnap me, then you kiss me … are you out of your fucking mind, Potter?" Never let it be said a Parkinson cannot swear when the occasion warrants it. This bloody well warranted it.

"If this is how you expect me to repay you for seeing Draco, I've got news for you! I am not a slag, and am not about to start just because you've got an itch to scratch!" My voice had hit a screechy octave, and people were starting to stop and stare. Harry scrambled to his feet, and holding his arms out from his sides (to reassure me that he wasn't going to reach for his wand, I suspect) moved a little closer, and spoke so lowly I almost couldn't hear him.

"I'm sorry, Pansy, please, just come back to the house and I'll explain better. Dumbledore's honor."

While the oath meant nothing to me, I understood the intention, and I relented, allowing him to lead me back to where the house which popped into view a few moments later. With Potter behind me, I re-entered the house, careful to stay away from the covered portrait that apparently took exception to being disturbed.

"I inherited this place from my godfather Sirius Black," Harry said behind me. I gave him a look. He shrugged. "I haven't had time to do anything about the portrait. His mother's a bit rabid."

"Potter," I interrupted. "What makes you think I care what you do or do not have time for when you're not saving the world?" Sarcasm was thick in my voice and Harry flushed, mumbling something about a cup of tea and ‘wait here’ before turning and vanishing in the direction of what I assumed to be the kitchen. Since I'd heard stories about the crazed Sirius Black, not to mention the rest of the Black family, I could admit to being curious. I rounded a corner and entered a room with a large tapestry dominating the one wall. I stared at it in awe. We had our family tree mapped out, to be sure, but nothing quite as detailed as this. I looked towards the bottom, seeing where the tapestry had been repaired. Andromeda, Nymphadora and Theodore were recently added, and I noted with some surprise that Draco had a cousin that was a Lupin.

I sat down hard in a chair, just staring at the tapestry. I couldn’t think of my life, my future, in terms of Draco any more. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders. Potter could come and find me, since he’d gone to the trouble of dragging me there. I heard him enter, bringing in a tea service. He seemed flustered, and I didn’t know if it was because I, of all people, was in his home, or if it was because of the kiss. I figured it was safer to assume the former. The idea of me and Potter was about as likely as Draco with Granger.

"Sorry. Normally Kreacher takes care of this, but he's at the Burrow, helping with wedding stuff." Harry was babbling, something about one of the older Weasley’s was marrying his childhood sweetheart, and how the entire family was involved, and I would have been amused by if I wasn't so eager to get this whole … encounter over with. He was trying to explain that the house elf was paid for his work even though he would never think of leaving the family home, and I sighed loudly, rolling my eyes. He seemed to get the hint, and shut up, passing me a cup of strong tea, which I drank. Mother despaired of my habit of drinking tea straight, claiming it was unladylike.

He spoke up, cutting through the awkward silence. "I didn't mean to do that, out there." He gestured vaguely towards the front of the house. I assumed he meant the kiss. "You caught me by surprise." That was rather the point, but I stayed silent, letting him dig a hole for himself. "I, er, don't expect anything from you for the visit to see Draco. I meant that. And I don't pity you, despite what you think. You run your mouth too much for me to ever think you don't incite people on purpose." I rolled my eyes again, taking another sip, and he continued doggedly. "But what I don't get is why they are so set on you. It’s not as though you were responsible for anyone’s death. There are others they could be harassing to get revenge for that year under the Carrows. Why you?"

I froze, setting down my teacup before I broke it. He'd gotten to the heart of it faster than I thought he would. I shook my head, not speaking. I didn’t trust my tongue not to slip. Looking down at my hands, I heard Potter sigh, and he reached over, touching my hands.  
"Look, I know today’s been tough. Draco cares enough about you to ask me to look after you."

I snorted, tugging my hands back. Right, and I was a griffin’s mother. Harry stood, hands awkwardly shoved in his pockets. "I'm trying, really, but you're not making this easy for me." I looked up at him, bristling, and stood, in Potter’s face yet again.

"I wasn't aware that my purpose in life was to make things easier for you. No wonder things have been going so badly. I’ll be sure to work on that. Right after I get Ron Weasley to marry me." My sarcasm clearly was doing its job, and he stopped looking at me like someone he wanted to help and started to glower.

“Look, Pansy, if you’ll just tell me who started all this, I can make it go away, and you won’t have to see me again.” Oddly, the thought of not seeing Potter wasn’t as pleasing as I thought it would be, and that thought overrode my annoyance at his arrogant presumption. Ignoring my inner reactions, I looked at him, all serious, and he continued, “Please.”

It was the please that got me. Telling myself I had Potter begging, when we both knew he was doing no such thing, I finally said, “What guarantee do I have that if I tell you, you’ll believe me?”

Harry smiled, albeit nervously at that. “Because I put Veritaserum in your tea.” He watched me carefully as I stared at him, wide-eyed, then started laughing hysterically, falling back in the chair, laughing ‘til I was crying, and still he watched me, like one would watch a snake about to strike.

Finally, I hiccupped, and said unsteadily, “Well, alright then. I never knew you had it in you. I’m impressed.” I clapped my hands over my mouth, horrified at having revealed that bit, and Harry bit back a smile. Giving him an evil look, I said, “Don’t suppose you took some as well?” When he shook his head, I sighed. This was going to be unpleasant, and I said as such. “I won’t say it more than once, so listen carefully.”

“Right. So, the Last Battle,” Harry said hurriedly, grabbing a quill and notepad and setting them to dictate. I closed my eyes, recalling the scene, and began.

“We were evacuated after the scene in the Great Hall, but I wasn’t going to leave without Draco. Despite what you may thing of us, Slytherins do have some loyalties to those we love and in fact, are capable of love.” I opened my eyes to catch Harry nodding, a thoughtful look on his face. I continued. “I was trying to make my way back to where I thought I had last seen him, in the upper corridor near that room you lot used for your secret meetings. He wasn’t there, but some Death Eaters were, dueling what looked like some Ministry employees. I don’t have a lot of experience dueling, so I just tried to find a place to hide and watch for him.” I paused, a lump in my throat. “It was my fault.” My voice was low, ripped from my throad by the strength of the potion.

“What was your fault?” Harry’s voice seemed gentle, and I found myself resisting the Veritaserum, though I knew it fruitless.

“The wall, the explosion… I caused it.” I choked out, pulling my feet up onto the seat and wrapping my arms around them. “I saw the duel between you three, the Weasleys and the Death Eaters, and I sent a flare out a nearby window. I thought they’d send someone in, or maybe fly through the window. I never…” I gulped, unable to look him in the face. “They brought down the whole side of the building. I was knocked unconscious for a bit, but someone found me later and took me to the Great Hall. I saw him, the twin, and I knew … Someone said they’d found me near there, and the other one asked me what I knew and I couldn’t- I just-”

I stopped talking; finally giving over to the shame and grief I’d carried the past year and a half. I hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone, not really. Like Potter, I just wanted the people I cared about to be safe. I knew I deserved what I had gotten in retribution, and that was why I hadn’t protested too loudly at being harassed. It was my fault, and even as hard as I could be towards those I didn’t like, I never wished them dead. Even my obligatory torture during Dark Arts that year was rather pathetic, since I hadn’t the stomach for seeing people in that kind of pain.

I hadn’t heard Harry move, but all of a sudden he was crouched next to me, running a soothing hand over my head, smoothing my hair back from my face. I could cry well when I was relatively in control, sad little tears that didn’t muss my makeup or anything, but this was beyond that. I turned my face away from him, wanting to just disappear, but he tugged on my arm, pulling me out of the chair until I stood before him. I refused to look at him.

“Pansy.” His voice was gentle. “Please, look at me.” I shook my head, stubborn to a fault. Harry wrapped his arms around me, tucking my head against his shoulder, and I resisted, hating that I wanted to just wrap my arms around him and cling. He ran a hand down my back, and after a long silence he murmured, “I forgive you.”

Those three simple words broke me in a way that all the jeers, the hexing and the belittling hadn’t. I grasped his shirt and cried, wailing how I was sorry, I didn’t want to kill anyone and please don’t send me to Azkaban, I swear I’ll never do magic again, don’t let them mark me again; I didn’t know if I could stand it.

It took a bit, but I eventually cried myself out, and if Potter hadn’t held on, I’d have slid to the floor. Tired by the onslaught, I finally looked up at him through narrowed, swollen eyes. He was looking at me like he’d never seen me before. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, and he kissed me again.

He tasted dark, bitter, like the tea he’d drunk, and somehow wonderfully intoxicating. I held on to his shoulders, kissing him back, before he slowly disengaged, his face still so close to mine I could feel his breath fluttering my eyelashes. I blinked up at him, and he set me back down in the chair, swinging my legs over the arm and saying, “Sleep.” I was too tired to protest, and as soon as my eyes slid shut I was out.

I woke up several hours later, covered in a blanket and with a crick in my neck. Seeing I was alone in the room, I quickly got up and searched for a floo connection, leaving before Harry could stop me. Once at home, I endured Mother’s half-hearted nagging for a little bit before she sent me up for a bath and “some Dreamless Sleep. Honestly, Pansy, you look as though you’ve been crying. You know how your face swells when you do that.” I silently went through the motions, asleep again as soon as my head touched the pillow.


	2. Chapter 2

"Anger makes you smaller, while forgiveness forces you to grow beyond what you were."

 

**_One Month Later…_ **

 

“Pansy Parkinson.” I turned at the sound of my voice, seeing a smirking Marietta Edgecombe. I crossed my arms in front of my chest. She didn’t scare me. Potter would have had words with her about harassing me, and as much as I was uncomfortable about where things stood with Harry, I believed him. He was a Gryffindor, after all, and incapable of lying well enough to fool me.

“Now what do you want?” I asked. Bored, I began to examine my nails. I needed another manicure set. I could tell my indifference was making her angry, so I looked up and smiled. “Still can’t get the scars to go away? I’m sure if you keep asking Madam Primpernelle, she’ll eventually come up with something good. Or better, you’ll master your glamour charms.”

She glared at me for a moment, until something behind me caught her eye and she smirked. I felt two sets of arms lifting me off my feet and carrying me down the alley between Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes joke shop and a tea shop. I was flung against the brick wall, bruising my shoulder, and the three of them hovered over me.

I scowled, rubbing my shoulder. “Always so rough and crude and uncouth. It’s a wonder you aren’t caught out more often, terrorizing folks.”

“Consider yourself special. It’s only you we target,” Marietta drawled viciously. She really hadn’t ever gotten over the fact that she’d not managed to heal her scars properly. Not my problem.

“Oh really?” I stood, brushing off my robes. “To what end, exactly?” I brought out from inside my robes a wand that had been owled to me a few weeks ago, a near twin to the one I’d carried since I was a child. I wasn’t one to look a gift unicorn in the mouth, so I kept it with me always. “Especially now that I can defend myself.”

Marietta eyed the wand then quickly sent a stunning hex at me. I dodged, running further into the alley to take cover, firing off a few choice hexes of my own. Hearing the curses from her two idiotic sidekicks, I smiled grimly. I wouldn’t be caught out like that again. Marietta threw something at me and I ducked, glancing back to see what it was. Bloody FUCK. It was a hissing asp, and I quickly reached out to grasp it behind the head so it wouldn’t bite me. As soon as I touched it, though, I felt a tugging at my navel. The Rusty Trio somehow managed to turn it into a portkey.

I arrived in a dark room, falling in a heap as I landed, scrambling to get as far away from the asp as I could. Then a voice spoke out of the darkness.

“It wasn’t real, so it won’t bite you.”

I thought I knew the voice, had definitely heard it before, but couldn’t say who it was. I cautiously found the wall and put my back to it, looking around to discern if I could see anything in the black. After a few moment, my eyes adjusted, and I felt my along the wall, standing up. As soon as I did, I felt ropes snake around me, dragging me forward and pinning me to a chair. I struggled, to no avail.

“Who are you? Why did you kidnap me? I should press charges against you. Where are we?” I tried to sound as annoyed and unafraid as possible, which was a challenge, considering my hand was shaking all over and I had broken out in a cold sweat.

Suddenly a light blazed in the corned and I flinched, blinking hard as I got used to the newfound brightness. Then it registered who I was alone in the space with.

Oh bloody buggering fucking gobshite.

Seated in the corner next to the light was George Weasley.

He held a bottle of scotch in his left hand, his wand in his right, and he was staring at me, inscrutable. I felt my heart begin to race, and my breathing hitch. He knew. He knew what I had done, and now he was going to take his revenge. Oh, Merlin, I was dead.

Despite the terror threatening to overwhelm me, I lifted my chin and said with all the arrogance of centuries of breeding, “It’s very rude for a man to remain seated when a lady is in the room.” That got me a snort. I continued, “Untie me, or I will have you arrested.”

“Is that so?” George gave me a humorless smile, taking another pull off the bottle in his hand. He looked terrible, several days growth on his face and shadows under his eyes.

“And what, exactly, is this supposed to be?” I said, tugging fruitlessly at my bonds. My wand was still in my hand, so I bluffed, “I’ll warn you, my mother expects me home any time now, and I’m not incapable of defending myself. Send one spell at me and-”

“And you’ll what?” he said sharply, sitting forward, flicking his wand and disarming me, looking at me finally with something in his eyes, something besides that rather alarming blankness. His eyes raged now, all the grief and hate and pain I had ever imagined. I gulped, and he went on. “You’ll hurt me? I doubt it. Not worse than you already have.”

I swallowed, hard. That was true enough. He didn’t seem inclined to hurt me, not yet anyway, so I continued to probe at him. “Why did you bring me here?” I repeated. “Unless you mean to kill me, which I won’t let you do without a fight, what is this—” I gestured around the small empty room, “supposed to be?”

George took a long swallow from the bottle, setting it down on the floor. He rolled the wand between his two hands. “Reparation.”

Eyes, wide, I began to scream at the top of my lungs, praying someone might hear me and stop whatever was going to happen from happening.

Wincing, he silenced me with a flick of his wand, scowling. “What the fuck. Not gonna hurt you. Daft cow.”

Seeing as he wasn’t going to explain anything fast, I shut my mouth, breathing hard, but not trying to escape or kick up a fuss. Watching him carefully, I jumped when a door banged open, and Potter stuck his head in.

“George, what was—” Seeing me, Potter’s mouth fell open, struck speechless for a long moment. He finally snapped his mouth shut and looked at George, expectation on his face. I glared at him. The least he could do if he was around to be rescuing people was to untie me, but it seemed I was going to be ignored for the moment.

“George.” Potter said sharply. “What on earth are you doing? I thought we agreed-”

“We agreed I’d talk to her, not how I’d go about doing it. Frankly, I don’t know that I’d feel safe having this conversation any other way.” He wouldn’t look at me when he said that, but Weasley looked a bit embarrassed. Potter snorted, reaching out to take the bottle of whiskey from him.

“Then talk, but not with any more of this. You promised.”

Weasley looked disgruntled but acquiesced, waving his wand and my bonds loosed and my throat tingled, indicating the return of my voice. I got up, brushing the ropes off me, and threw myself at Potter, shaking. I felt a bit of a coward, hiding from a Weasley, and seeking something from Potter, but I knew I could trust him. He must have been surprised, because it took a long moment before he patted me gently on the shoulder and turned me to face George Weasley.

“I did it,” George said abruptly. “I set those three on you like that.” I looked at him, uncomprehending.

Impatiently, George said, “What, do I have to spell it out for you? I did it. The letters, the harassing, the shunning, all of it. I asked the other business owners to give you a hard time. I told those three what curse to use.” He shifted in his seat, and I realized that this was to be reparation to me. Even though I was responsible indirectly for his brother’s death, he was apologizing for my year of hell.

Gulping, I looked down at my wand. I had been spending too much time with Gryffindors, given what I was going to do. After several false starts, I finally said, “It’s all right. I forgive you.” I bit at my lip. “I, er, have some apologizing to do of my own.” He looked surprised, and I rushed on to say, “I-was-responsible-for-the-wall-exploding-and-killing-your-brother.”

George nodded. “Yeah, I know.” It was my turn to look surprised. “Harry told me when he figured out who was hassling you. Wanted me to call this whole mess off before someone else got hurt.” I turned, looking at Potter, who wouldn’t meet my eyes. He was smarter than I’d given him credit for, and far more compassionate. George was practically family and I was nothing to him, but he’d sided with me. Turning back to George, he had a half-smirk on his face. “Seems he’s not done saving people from themselves.” I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I didn’t want to ask.

I felt compelled to admit, “I’ve regretted it every day since then.”

George nodded. “So Harry said. I didn’t expect that from you, but he’s a shite liar, so I had to believe him.” We had a moment of complete agreement, and I gave a tentative smile.

He continued, “I didn’t think you’d accept an invitation to tea to discuss this, which is why I had those three corner you one last time. After today, they’ll leave you alone. They’re spiteful, but not stupid. They just wanted a spot of revenge, and after the last few years, I didn’t blame them. I wasn’t thinking, encouraging them like that, but no more.”

Curious, I asked, “Why?”

George scrubbed a hand over his face, the weariness evident. “I’m tired of all this anger and hate. I’ve been tired for a while, but Harry figuring it out was the gnat that broke the centaur’s back. Fred wouldn’t have wanted it like this. I’m not doing his memory justice by treating you like this. We didn’t fight Voldemort just to lapse back into that kind of prejudice.” He paused, pensive, before shaking himself and grinning a bit. “Now, if I was to sneak a Canary Cream or a Fever Fudge, well that’s different.”

He was starting to sound like the Weasley I remembered from school, and I finally relaxed. I was beyond relieved that the ordeal from the past sixteen months, since that nightmarish night at Hogwarts, was coming to a close. Closure. So much in such a short span of time. I realized then that Potter still had his arms around me, resting comfortably around my waist, and I quickly jumped away from him, not meeting his gaze or George’s smirk. George’s comment about the Canary Creams and Fever Fudge caught my attention, and I had an idea. Probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever come up with, but I’d nothing to lose, and everything to gain.

“How exactly did you come up with the recipe for those?” I asked.

George shrugged. “We experimented. Got a knack for potions, probably from all the detentions we served under Snape.” He seemed somewhat nostalgic, likely remembering past adventures with his twin. My heart twisted again. No matter what he had done to me, nothing could equal the pain I’d caused him and his family. The thought of apologizing to all the rest of the Weasleys made me ill, but after a quick glance at Harry, I decided that I wouldn’t be putting myself out there like that unless asked. I wasn’t that much of a glutton for punishment.

“So do I. Have a knack for potions, that is.” I tried not to sound like I was bragging, but I doubt I succeeded. George gave me a skeptical look. “No, it’s true. Listen, here’s what I’m thinking….” I gave him my pitch. Truth was, I needed something, anything, to get me out of the house. Never mind needing a way to repair my reputation, and what better way than an alliance with the right sort of people? After a long silence, where it seemed like George was consulting an inner voice, he looked back at me, and stuck his hand out to shake.

***

Alright, so maybe it wasn’t a stupid idea. True, it was the last thing anyone expected of me, Draco included, but instinct (and a judicious use of Divination) told me that future happiness lay down this path. The lime green robes had earned George a look though, and when I complained that I'd be behind the scenes most of the time, he reminded me that I also had to work the till several hours a week, else folks wouldn’t know what a fine upstanding citizen I’d become. I pouted, but really, if I didn't have something to complain about, people would thing I'd gone soft.

Becoming an employee and fellow experimenter for Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes caused my mother no small amount of vapors, but Father had given me a small smile, and Draco, despite questioning my sanity, wished me well. He was nearly done with his sentence, and was in the process of reclaiming the heritage that had gone awry with his Father imprisoned. I looked forward to seeing him, but as friends. The six months since Potter had taken me to see Draco had done what time does best. I still loved him, but with the amused sort of fondness I also now had for George Weasley, wonder of all wonders.

True, I couldn't be as snide as I liked, working for such a Gryfindor-ish business, but I managed to get enough digs in at all and sundry that I never felt I was in danger of pulling any swords from any hats. I’d leave that to Potter and Longbottom. Finding contentment working at the Weasley Joke shop with the Holey One himself (I call him Weashole when I was trying to provoke him, and he sends Edible Dark Marks at any visible skin) has been strange, and I threaten to hex the hair off anyone that questioned my right to that place. Frankly, it took the cunning of a Slytherin to keep things going at times. As it was, I got to experiment with products for the Wonderwitch Line and scare small children occasionally, and that kept me happy.

"Hello, I was wondering if you could help me." Potter's voice caused me to turn around from where I was re-arranging stock in the back room. I gave him my best supercilious look, ruined, no doubt, by the hideous lime green robes I wore.

"I don't know that there is any amount of magic in the world that can help you, Potter," I said, but my voice lacked bite. I was out from under the shadow of my house at Hogwarts and my own reprehensible actions and I owed it in some small part to Potter.  
"Ha. George was working on something for the wedding, said it was back here." I shrugged, gesturing for him to look around as he pleased. He continued, "Ginny sends her regards, and wants to know when you'll forgive her for the trick pygmy puff."

I snorted. That trick pygmy had stained my hands blue, and everything I touched. In retaliation, I'd deliberately hugged her fiancé without him knowing what she'd done, and it took them several days to work out what had happened, once she stopped yelling about the hand prints all over his clothes. He still wasn't happy with me, but I figured I'd pay him back by helping with the wedding tricks George was up to. Having Potter’s and Weasley’s chairs emit noxious noises would likely lighten the mood.

I turned back to ask Potter if he'd found it yet, and caught him staring at my arse through the bloody robes. He blushed a bit, but still met my eyes. "You never gave me an answer to that question I asked last time." He was trying for confident, but as usual, failing.

"Because you shouldn't have asked it," I said sharply, slamming a few things around before exiting the back room to restock the front display with some Puking Pustules. He followed, ignoring my glare when he came behind the counter. I gave him points for persistence, even if I thought he was barmy for even asking it. After all, we were both damaged goods, and about as opposite a pair as you could conceive. I made allowances for him just because he told me once that he’d nearly been sorted into Slytherin. An almost-Slytherin is acceptable, and could balance out his Gryffindorish tendencies.

"I'm not leaving ‘til I get an answer, Pansy." I heard him declare behind me, and I sighed, rolling my eyes. His words had caught everyone's ears, and I was now the center of everyone's attention. Great. Just what I didn’t want.

Turning, I gave him my best sneer. "And what exactly is in it for me? The pleasure of your company? Hardly. You know Potter, if I didn't know better, I'd say you—" I got no further before Harry lost patience and shut me up the only way he knew how. When he pulled back from snogging me silent, there was a round of whistles and cheers in the room. He grinned at me. I narrowed my eyes at him, silently promising retribution, even while my lips tingled and I was tempted to tug him back down for another go.

"So, how about it?" He hadn't let me go, but I didn't mind much. His touch had become a bit of a constant for me. Where I might have been angry once at such presumption, I was now almost used to him assuming he had rights where I was concerned. Frankly, I was afraid to hope he was serious about wanting such rights. He was constantly underfoot, and I really was used to him at this point, and was not doing such a good job of convincing myself otherwise.

"Alright, fine. Yes, I'll be your date for the wedding. But you better pick me up on time, I expect you to not get drunk or so help me, you can join George in your Holey Crusade permanently," I warned him, smacking at a hand that was slipping down to cover my bum. He jerked the hand back, wincing. "I am not cheap, nor am I easy, and don't forget it."

"How could I? You made me ask you a good dozen times," he muttered, but I pretended not to hear, turning away to help a customer. "Its not like you didn't get an invitation, you know."

"I have no intention of showing up at a Weasley-Longbottom wedding without a date, and your requests for the pleasure of my company, as you so humbly put it, weren't quite inducement enough to attend what is sure to be a gagfest." I said loftily, filling a Wheeze special box for a boy who looked barely old enough to attend Hogwarts. "Besides, Neville hasn't quite forgiven me for involving him in the prank war between me and Ginny."

"Of course he has. It was safer to use him as the middleman than to let the two of you duke it out. I doubt you'd have any hair left after that catfight. Besides, he rather enjoyed Ginny having to make it up to him." Harry joked, still crowding my personal space in some sort of cave man mannerism. Which I secretly enjoyed, but bumped him out of the way nonetheless.

"Gross, Potter. And I could take her. If she touched one hair on my head, she'd be one huge freckle for the rest of her life," I threatened, turning to face him. "Tell me, though. Did I have anything to do with the two of you never getting together? You never explained why the two of you didn't do as expected and become the next golden couple." I gave him my most piercing look. "What, did you decide it would be too much like dating Ron?"

He grimaced. "No, but thank you for giving me that horrible mental picture. Luna'll have your hair for that."

“Oh please. She’s still convinced that the potion I made her will reveal the nesting grounds of those Corkbacks she’s always on about. You still didn't answer my question."

He was silent, which caused me to turn and look at him. He shrugged. "It was puppy love. I wasn't there when she needed me, and Neville was. They went through hell together, and that’s far more than she and I had." He met my gaze. "She'll always mean a lot to me, but frankly, I find the jet-haired ones are even feistier than redheads. Call it a gut feeling, but we make sense."

I smiled at him. "Good answer, though we need to discuss your use of the term we. We also have to do something about your saving people thing. Its bad enough I had to talk you out of being an Auror; one of these days you'll get bored of testing brooms, and where will you be? Bored, is what, which means you'll be here even more, pestering me, and I won't get anything done—" He shut me up again, and I didn't mind in the slightest. Now, if I could only convince Draco to stop writing me about Granger and just ask the bloody witch out, we’d all be set. Now all that remained to be answered was how far I’d let Potter get at the wedding, or after. Mother always said to keep them wanting more.


End file.
